Homes Without Hands: Being a Description of the Habitations of Animals, Classed According to Their Principle of Construction - Page 82

One such nest is very remarkable. In general form it bears a singular resemblance to the nest of the fairy martin, which is figured at page 330, though its materials are entirely different. The nest is flask-shaped, and its base is fastened to a leaf which it almost covers. The body of the nest is oval, and the entrance, which is small, is placed at the end of a well-marked neck. The shell of the nest is extremely thin, not in the least like the loose, papery structure of an ordinary wasp-nest, nor the pasteboard-like material which defends the nest of the Chartergus. It is rather fragile, and in thickness is almost double that of the paper on which this account is printed.

The name of the species which builds this curious nest is Polybia sedula, and the specimen was brought from Brazil.

For the reasons which have been given at the beginning of this chapter, the HIVE-BEE has been reckoned among the Social Insects.

The Bee has always been one of the most interesting insects to mankind on account of the direct benefit which it confers upon the human race. There are many other insects which are in reality quite as useful to us, and, indeed, are indispensable, but which we neglect because we are ignorant of their labors. The Bee, however, furnishes two powerful and tangible arguments in its favor, namely, honey and wax, and is sure, therefore, to enlist our sympathies in its behalf.

Independently, however, of these claims to our notice, if the Bee never made an ounce of honey—if the wax were as useless to us as a wasp-comb—if the insect were a mere stinging creature, with a tetchy temper, it would still deserve our admiration, on account of the wonderful manner in which it constructs its social home, and the method by which that home is regulated.

The accompanying illustration shows the lower part of the interior of a hive, which is supposed to be viewed through a plate of glass set in the back. When the hive is in full operation, the combs are so crowded with Bees that their structure can hardly be seen; but in the illustration the Bees are supposed to have gone away, with the exception of one individual.

I need not, in this place, repeat the well-known facts respecting the constitution of the Bees, nor describe the duties of the Queen, Drone, and Worker Bees. Suffice it to say that the former is the mother as well as the queen of the hive; that the workers are undeveloped females, which are properly called neuters; and that the drones are males, which do no work, and have no stings.

In the illustration, the Queen Bee is seen walking over the combs, and in this position she exhibits the peculiarities of form which distinguish her from her subjects, and which enables an experienced eye to detect her at once amid a crowd of workers. In the Queen Bee, the abdomen is long in proportion to its width, and the wings slightly cross each other when closed, the latter being a very conspicuous badge of sovereignty. The drones are easily distinguished by their generally larger size, their larger eyes, and the wide, blunt, and rounded abdomen.

The lower part of the comb, in the foreground, is formed of cells which are closed at their mouth, and which do not show the hexagonal shape as well as those which are yet empty. Some of the empty cells are shown above, and the Queen Bee is represented as making her way toward them.

There are three kinds of cell in a hive, namely, the worker cell, the drone cell, and the royal cell. Of these, the two former are hexagonal, but can easily be distinguished by the greater size of the drone cell; while the royal cell is totally unlike the nursery of a subject, whether drone or worker, and is almost always placed on the edge of a comb. One of these cells is shown in the illustration, and may be seen on the edge of the comb in the foreground. It is very much larger than an ordinary cell, and is built with a lavish expenditure of wax that affords a curious contrast with the rigid economy observed in the structure of the other cells. The difference of size between the worker and the drone cells is shown in the central comb, where the worker cells are seen below, and the drone cells above.

The little grub which is placed in the royal cell is not fed with the same food which is supplied to the other Bees, but lives upon an entirely different diet, and which is, apparently, of a more stimulating character; and it is now well known that if a young grub which has been hatched in one of the worker cells be removed into the royal cell, and supplied with royal food, it becomes developed into a queen, and, in time, is qualified to rule and populate a hive. This remarkable provision of nature is intended to meet a difficulty which sometimes occurs when the reigning queen dies, and there is no royal larva in the cell.

Although the primary object of the bee-cell is to serve as a store-house and a nursery, it is also made to answer other purposes. When the Bee seeks repose, it almost invariably creeps into a cell, and buries itself deep therein, the whole head, thorax, and part of the abdomen being hidden. If a hive be examined in the winter time, every cell that happens to be empty will be tenanted by a Bee; and when the poor insects are put to death by the absurd and cruel plan of smothering them with the fumes of burning sulphur, they will be found to have vainly sought escape from the suffocating vapor by forcing themselves into the recesses of the empty cells.

As a general fact, the Bees place the honey in the coolest part of the hive, and the young brood in the warmest, so that bee-keepers are enabled to procure honeycomb of wonderful purity by affixing glass or wooden caps to their hives. These caps are necessarily cooler than the body of the hive, and therein the Bees will store large quantities of honey.

The chief point which distinguishes the comb of the Hive-bee from that of other insects is the manner in which the cells are arranged in a double series. The combs of the wasp or the hornet are single, and are arranged horizontally, so that their cells are vertical, with the mouths downward and the bases upward, the united bases forming a floor on which the nurse wasps can walk while feeding the young inclosed in the row of cells immediately above them.

Such, however, is not the case with the Hive-bee. As every one knows who has seen a bee-comb, the cells are laid nearly horizontally, and in a double series, just as if a couple of thimbles were laid on the table with the points touching each other and their mouths pointing in opposite directions. Increase the number of thimbles, and there will be a tolerable imitation of a bee-comb.

There is another point which must now be examined. If the bases of the cells were to be rounded like those of the thimbles, it is clear that they would have but little adhesion to each other, and that a large amount of space would be wasted. The simplest plan of obviating these defects is evidently to square off the rounded bases, and to fill up the ends of each cell with a hexagonal flat plate, which is actually done by the wasp. If, however, we look at a piece of bee-comb, we shall find that no such arrangement is employed, but that the bottom of each cell is formed into a kind of three-sided cup. Now, if we break away the walls of the cell so as only to leave the bases, we shall see that each cup consists of three lozenge-shaped plates of wax, all the lozenges being exactly alike.

These lozenge-shaped plates contain the key to the bee-cell, and their properties will therefore be explained at length. Before doing so, I must acknowledge my thanks to the Rev. Walter Mitchell, Vicar and Hospitaler of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, who has long exercised his well-known mathematical powers on this subject, and has kindly supplied me with the outline of the present history.

If a single cell be isolated, it will be seen that the sides rise from the outer edges of the three lozenges above mentioned, so that there are, of course, six sides, the transverse section of which gives a perfect hexagon. Many years ago, Maraldi, being struck with the fact that the lozenge-shaped plates always had the same angles, took the trouble to measure them, and found that in each lozenge the large angles measured 109° 28′, and the smaller 70° 32′, the two together making 180°, the equivalent of two right angles. He also noted the fact that the apex of the three-sided cup was formed by the union of three of the greater angles. The three united lozenges are seen at Fig. 1.

Some time afterward, Réaumur, thinking that this remarkable uniformity of angle might have some connection with the wonderful economy of space which is observable in the bee-comb, hit upon a very ingenious plan. Without mentioning his reasons for the question, he asked Kœnig, the mathematician, to make the following calculation. Given a hexagonal vessel terminated by three lozenge-shaped plates; what are the angles which would give the greatest amount of space with the least amount of material?

Kœnig made his calculations, and found that the angles were 109° 26′ and 70° 34′, almost precisely agreeing with the measurements of Maraldi. The reader is requested to remember these angles. Réaumur, on receiving the answer, concluded that the Bee had very nearly solved the difficult mathematical problem, the difference between the measurement and the calculation being so small as to be practically negatived in the actual construction of so small an object as the bee-cell.

Mathematicians were naturally delighted with the result of the investigation, for it showed how beautifully practical science could be aided by theoretical knowledge, and the construction of the bee-cell became a famous problem in the economy of nature. In comparison with the honey which the cell is intended to contain, the wax is a rare and costly substance, secreted in very small quantities, and requiring much time for its production; it is therefore essential that the quantity of wax employed in making the comb should be as little, and that of the honey contained in it as great, as possible.

For a long time these statements remained uncontroverted. Any one with the proper instruments could measure the angles for himself, and the calculations of a mathematician like Kœnig would hardly be questioned. However, Maclaurin, the well-known Scotch mathematician, was not satisfied. The two results very nearly tallied with each other, but not quite, and he felt that in a mathematical question precision was a necessity. So he tried the whole question himself, and found Maraldi’s measurement correct, namely, 109° 28′, and 70° 32′.

He then set to work at the problem which was worked out by Kœnig, and found that the true theoretical angles were 109° 28′, and 70° 32′, precisely corresponding with the actual measurement of the bee-cell.

Another question now arose. How did this discrepancy occur? How could so excellent a mathematician as Kœnig make so grave a mistake? On investigation, it was found that no blame attached to Kœnig, but that the error lay in the book of logarithms which he used. Thus a mistake in a mathematical work was accidentally discovered by measuring the angles of a bee-cell—a mistake sufficiently great to have caused the loss of a ship whose captain happened to use a copy of the same logarithmic tables for calculating his longitude.

Page 82 of 120